


Romance

by ProsperDemeter



Series: 20 Days of Holiday Fics [8]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Bisexual Peter Parker, I have zero, I'm also terrible at tags and titling, Italian!Harry, M/M, Not Spider-Man: Far From Home Compliant, OCs - Freeform, Peter Parker has a thing for accents I don't make the rules, it ended up 5000 words when I meant it to be like 2000, mentioned lesbian MJ, my terrible Italian translation skills, there could be a part two who even knows
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-08
Updated: 2020-12-08
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:34:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27961616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ProsperDemeter/pseuds/ProsperDemeter
Summary: “If you’re staring at her like that,” The boy opposite him said after a moment of Peter’s rather obvious silent pining. Peter turned back to him to see that he wasn’t even paying Peter much attention, instead flipping through a notebook full of what Peter assumed were math equations. He tilted his head at the small, neat, and curvy handwriting. Polynomials. Huh. “You should, maybe, be sitting with her for breakfast instead of by yourself.”“It’s… it’s not like that.” Except it was like that. Peter did have a ridiculous crush on MJ and he did have a plan to confess his feelings to her. The other boy, without looking at him, raised a curious eyebrow. Somehow it felt more judgemental than Peter expected it to. “Okay, so… maybe it is like that but… see, I have a plan.”
Relationships: Harry Osborn & Cassandra Madison (Original Character), Harry Osborn & Jonathan Michello (Original Character), Harry Osborn/Peter Parker, Peter parker & Ned Leeds & Michelle Jones
Series: 20 Days of Holiday Fics [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2035498
Comments: 16
Kudos: 50





	Romance

**Author's Note:**

> This is terrible. Will there be a part two? Who knows. Not me. 
> 
> Translations are in the end notes. :)

“Quello era il mio posto.” Rome was beautiful. It was early enough in the morning that mostly only locals were out and about the city, bustling to get their morning coffee and breakfast, or rushing on the streets to get to work. Peter was a little shocked to see that morning in Rome wasn’t much different from morning in New York City. It was still busy, still noisy, and still full of people. The night was quieter, and there was much less honking horns but it was still a city. A  _ beautiful _ city but a city nonetheless. His leg jiggled from under the small table, jostling the small potted plant that was sitting in its center, and tried to tell himself to be patient as Ned and Betty got them their breakfast and morning cups of coffee (well… got  _ themselves _ that, Peter wasn’t allowed much caffeine so he was sticking happily to whatever Ned deemed necessary for a morning pick-me-up). “Mi scusi,” It was rather odd, Peter thought, that not even hearing a different language felt  _ odd _ about Rome. In fact the only thing throwing him off was the architecture. The buildings weren’t trying to kiss the sky and the center he sat in was still filled with historical buildings that had been around longer than anything in New York was but… that was it really. Everything else could have felt like home. Just toss in a Delmars and May and Peter wouldn’t have even really known that anything was different. “Fucking hell,” The english startled him from his musings. “You’re in my seat.” 

It was slightly accented but not stilted the way a non-native speaker tended to be. Peter glanced over his shoulder and nearly lost his breath. “O-oh… Me?” He pointed to himself as though it wasn’t obvious exactly  _ who _ the other person was speaking to. 

“No, I’m talking to the plant.” Blue eyes, the bluest thing Peter had ever seen, so absolutely beautiful that there were more than a bit breathtaking. “Sì, I’m talking to  _ you _ .” 

Oh  _ god _ he was gorgeous. Only slightly taller than Peter and with hair the color of rust that curled, just a bit, around the corner of his ears. He had a mosaic of freckles over lightly pink cheeks and long eyelashes that painted the rims of his eyes a golden brown. And his  _ voice _ was absolutely silky smooth, like the drizzle of caramel over a cooled piece of chocolate that would just absolutely melt in your mouth. Peter swallowed past the dry lump that had formed in his throat and hoped that his cheeks weren’t as red as they felt. “I… I can move?” He went do just that, the legs of the metal chair grating against the cobblestone pathway and nearly careening backwards into the very same boy he had just been staring at. 

He jumped back, nearly spilled whatever he had in his mug on the hand that was holding it and fixed Peter with another severe, unimpressed look. “Just… stay.” He commanded with a hand held out flat to stop Peter from moving again. “Tu sei un disastro.” He muttered and side stepped Peter’s chair to move to, shockingly, the other side of the table. His bag - a brown, leather messenger one that had been slung over his shoulder - dropped to the ground beside the chair and when he sat down it was with a tense smile. “I guess you can sit here.” 

Peter flushed and pulled himself back inwards. “Thanks.” He muttered and turned back to his phone, tapping it against his leg and wishing Ned or Betty would hurry up and return to the outdoors with food and drinks and he could forget about the painfully attractive boy sitting across from him. The sidewalk cafe was busy that early in the morning, not to mention that it was right next door to the cafe most of the Midtown students had chosen to occupy for breakfast. He could see Flash eagerly leaning across the table to take several photos - from a  _ terrible _ angle, honestly, how he managed to have instagram followers with pictures like that baffled the photographer in Peter - of his morning spread. MJ was with some of the other girls, her curly hair up in a tight pony tail and Peter felt the same tug of his heart that he always did looking at her. She was gorgeous and  _ funny _ and, well, Peter liked her. 

“If you’re staring at her like that,” The boy opposite him said after a moment of Peter’s rather obvious silent pining. Peter turned back to him to see that he wasn’t even paying Peter much attention, instead flipping through a notebook full of what Peter assumed were math equations. He tilted his head at the small, neat, and curvy handwriting. Polynomials. Huh. “You should,  _ maybe _ , be sitting with her for breakfast instead of by yourself.” 

“It’s… it’s not like that.” Except it  _ was _ like that. Peter  _ did _ have a ridiculous crush on MJ and he  _ did _ have a plan to confess his feelings to her. The other boy, without looking at him, raised a curious eyebrow. Somehow it felt more judgemental than Peter expected it to. “Okay, so… maybe it  _ is _ like that but… see, I have a plan.” 

“Oh, hai un  _ piano _ .” Peter felt like he was being teased. He narrowed his eyes and noticed, then, the way the other boy’s lips managed to quirk up. “What  _ is _ this plan? Stare at her from afar and pray she pays you attention?” 

Peter ducked his head in with a small laugh. “No, I… I’m getting her a necklace when we go to Venice, yeah? And we’re stopping in Paris and she  _ loves _ Paris, so I’m going to give it to her at the top of the Eiffel Tower and tell her that I like her and… and why are you laughing? Is it lame?” 

The boy, finally, turned his attention from his notebook to Peter, propped his chin on the palm of his hand and splayed his fingers - freckled with charcoal - over his lips. He  _ was _ laughing, but to anyone else it would have been just a silent shake of his shoulders. “It’s a little lame.” Peter groaned. “No, no, it’s  _ sweet _ it’s just…” The other boy shrugged. “Paris? Could you be any more cliche?” 

“She loves Paris.” Peter muttered into the heel of his palms. 

“It sounds a bit closer to a marriage proposal than asking for a date.” 

“Well, what would  _ you _ do?” 

The boy shrugged and stared at MJ as though formulating his own plan. “Buy her coffee or something. Text her a stupid pun, you seem the type where that would work.” 

Peter peaked out at him through his fingers. “What does that mean?” 

“It means,” The boy pointed his pen at Peter with a small smirk. “That you stole my table.” 

Peter sputtered. “I…” 

The other boy smiled and it, somehow, made him look even younger. “Your phone screen is a science pun.” He shrugged as though noticing such a small detail was no big deal when, in reality, most people missed the pun altogether. May hadn’t noticed it, and Ned had only understood it when Peter had explained it to him. MJ had caught on to it, but she had just called him a dork fondly and turned back to her own work at the time. 

“Oh.” Peter laughed despite himself. “Are you from Rome?” 

“No,” he shook his head and sipped at his drink - frothy with milk and it  _ smelled _ delicious whatever it was. “New York.” 

“No way!” Peter exclaimed excitedly. “Me too!” 

“I had no idea.” The other boy winked. “It’s not like your accent gives you away or anything.” 

Peter’s laugh was sheepish then, his neck heating up at the small embarrassment. “Where in New York?” 

“Oh, I haven’t been home in a long time. I go to school here.” 

“That must suck.” 

“It’s not too bad,” his shoulders reached up with a shrug. “There’s a lot of history in Italy. And New York has  _ nothing _ on the food.” 

“If I’d ever get my breakfast I’d probably agree.” 

“I think your friends are trying to get your attention about that,” Peter looked where he pointed, at Ned and Betty over at a table in the corner, closer to where MJ had chosen to sit at the other cafe, and waving him down almost frantically. 

“Oh!” He stood up rather abruptly and grabbed his phone where it had been sitting on the table. “I guess I should go join them.” 

“Probably. If you want your food.” 

Peter smiled, and turned to just that before the thought that if he left he would be losing something vital stopped him. He turned back to see the other boy back at work, eyebrows creased as he thought and mouth moving along to the words on the page. “My name’s Peter, by the way.” 

The boy glanced up, looked him up and down before giving him a small wave. “Harry.” 

“Cool,” Peter smiled wide. “I’ll uh…” 

“Go. I have work to do.” 

“Okay,” He turned, cheeks red and made his way to where Ned and Betty sat. He thanked them for the food softly, and Ned’s hand closed, tight, on his forearm as he sat. 

“Dude,” Ned said almost urgently and Peter shot him a slightly concerned look at the tone. “Do you have any idea who that was?” 

Peter shrugged. “Just some guy.” 

Ned laughed, high and full of frantic disbelief. “Man, that was  _ Harry Osborn _ .” 

Oh. 

“No.” 

“ _ Dude _ !”

\--

Harry Osborn was the only son of business guru and biochemical  _ genius _ Norman Osborn. Norman Osborn did the sort of things Peter only dreamed of and was, proudly, one of Peter’s lifetime idols. Tony had strongly disliked him but even  _ he _ had to admit that the man was brilliant. But Peter’s embarrassment didn’t come from meeting Norman Osborn’s  _ son _ . No, because that wasn’t even the worst of it. 

Peter was painfully, obviously, bisexual. Everyone that mattered knew that about him. May had only said that she knew when he told her and Ben had bought a bisexual pride flag to put on the back of his police car (Peter, now, had it proudly on his locker door, holding up the picture of Ben in uniform that he always kept in it). Tony had waved away the announcement as though it was nothing important but had, himself, started talking about his own wild college experiments that Peter hadn’t really wanted to know about. Ned had reassured Peter that he was still his friend and… well that  _ still _ wasn’t even the problem. 

The  _ problem _ was that Peter had met Harry Osborn  _ once _ and promptly realized what his type in men was. It was a bit embarrassing, actually. “There is  _ no way _ ,” Flash said for the fifth time that afternoon, insisting once again, that Peter Parker hadn’t actually met anyone famous in his lifetime. Peter barely resisted punching him and settled, instead, for rolling his eyes. Almost fondly. While everything else in the world had changed it seemed, miraculously, that Eugene ‘Flash’ Thompson had refused to. “That you  _ actually _ met Harry Osborn.” 

“Man, let it go.” Peter  _ hated _ the way Mister Harrison had separated the group for dinner. Peter, Ned, and MJ were stuck sitting with Flash and Brad. Meanwhile all of the people that Peter could  _ actually _ stand (aside from Ned and MJ) were interspersed throughout the tiny interior of the rustic Italian restaurant. The hope was to separate those that could speak a little bit of Italian (MJ) with those that couldn’t (the rest of them). 

But  _ why _ Mister Harrison had to stick Peter with  _ those two _ was beyond his wildest dreams. “No,  _ really _ ,” Flash insisted. 

“We have  _ got _ to stop meeting like this, Pierre.” 

“Peter.” He corrected automatically, without even thinking of the words, and then turned to the voice. 

Flash’s mouth was opening and closing as though he were at a loss for words and Harry Osborn - beautiful, unfairly  _ beautiful _ , ticked all of Peter’s boxes, Harry Osborn - was standing in front of their table. He was still wearing a jacket - it  _ looked _ expensive - and unwinding a silk scarf from his neck with a rather coy smile painted on his lips. “Ciao, Peter.” 

“Hi, Harry.” Peter’s smile was an automatic response, as was the way his cheeks almost instantly reddened. 

“Did you find us a seat?” A taller, darker haired woman came up by Harry’s side, her face round and nose pointed at the end. She was young, but older than the rest of the table’s occupants. “Oh, hello. Who is this?” Her voice was painted with a British accent rather than an Italian one, and her dimples were positively adorable. MJ sat up a bit straighter at her appearance. 

“Cass, this is Peter,” Harry waved at him, and were  _ his _ cheeks a bit red? Or was Peter simply imagining that. “He’s from New York. He stole my seat at the cafe.” 

“Oh  _ Peter _ ,” The way Cass said his name seemed deliberate. “Well if we all scootch we can sit together.” 

“Oh, no. I’ll just-.” 

“That’s okay, yes?” Cass sat on the end next to Ned and they all scootched a bit closer, MJ’s elbow nearly banging into Peter’s water in the process and the only open spot on the end  _ next _ to Peter now. Harry stood for a moment longer before shrugging out of his coat and draping it over the hook at the end of their table and sitting beside Peter smoothly. 

“Sorry,” He said softly. 

His eyes were, if possible, even bluer up close, and his body radiated the sort of heat Peter longed for. “For what?” 

\--

“I am going to have to take your number,” Peter honestly wasn’t even shocked to turn around a few days later and see Harry leaning on a banister behind him in the crowded Venice walkway. “And make sure you are  _ not _ where I am. This is getting a bit, what’s the word…  _ ridicolo _ .” 

Peter laughed despite himself and clutched the bag in his hand just a bit tighter. Inside of it was MJ’s handcrafted necklace, beautiful and quirky just like her. But then there was Harry, who laughed at Peter’s stupid jokes over dinner and then  _ paid _ for the dinner of the entire team without even blinking and without even stopping to accept a thank you. “Are you stalking me, Mister Osborn?” 

“Me?” Harry looked mildly offended. “Are you stalking  _ me _ , signore?” And then he caught sight of the bag in Peter’s hand and an odd look crossed his face before disappearing behind a mask of curiosity. “Is that it? The necklace for… Michelle? That’s her name, yeah?” 

“MJ, yeah.” Peter shook it gently and bit at the bottom of his lip. “Want to see it?” 

“Oh, no.” Harry shook his head quickly. “It’s a gift for her, so she should be the first person to see it.” 

“Is that… a thing?” 

Harry shrugged and fell into step beside him, hands stuffed deep in his pockets. He had a rainbow, yarn bracelet tired snug around his left wrist and a splotch of paint on the heel of his hand. “How are you liking Italia?” 

“Honestly,” Peter glanced at him from the corner of his eye. The blue of his eyes was the same color of the peninsula. “It’s really cool. There’s so much…” 

“History.” 

“Yeah.” Peter’s eyes caught onto a statue. “And art.” 

“You like art?” 

“I like  _ looking _ at art.” Peter brushed a hand down the back of his neck. “I can barely draw a stick figure.” 

“Oh I’m sure you’re not  _ that _ bad.” Harry’s shoulder nudged against his own. “It just takes practice.” 

“ _ You _ like art?” It made sense, what with the charcoal and paint stains on his skin. 

“A little.” Harry admitted. 

“A  _ little _ ?” It felt like a lie. 

Harry smiled, his eyes sparkled and Peter could get lost in them and he was  _ so close _ that Peter could feel the way his breath curled around his lips and… a wave of water collapsed over the two of them, hard and unyielding. Peter acted quickly, spinning the two of them so that  _ he _ was below to hit the cobblestone hard. He sputtered in the air, hair plastered to his forehead and sat up quickly. 

Harry was sitting across from him, coughing into the sleeve of his shirt at his elbow and red hair dyed brown by the water that dripped from the ends. “Are you…?” 

“What the  _ fuck _ .” Harry croaked and Peter turned where his eyes were. 

A giant, blue, wave of water in the form of a…  _ thing _ was standing, dripping gondolas and big blue droplets while something  _ else _ was flying around it in circles, shooting something green from his hands as a cape billowed out behind him. Peter had seen weirder things, he was sure. But still…. “You’re okay?” Peter asked again, pushing himself quickly up to his feet and checking his shooters as deliberately as he could. He pulled Harry up by the forearm and hustled him backwards so that a wave couldn’t hit him again. People rushed around them to get indoors and Peter… well he glanced hopelessly at the scene behind him. 

Harry nodded and coughed again. 

“Okay, uh…” Peter shoved the bag at his chest. “Take this and run, okay?” 

“What? Where are you going?” Harry tugged his sleeve just as hard as Peter had pushed the bag at him with incredulous eyes. 

“Uh… I have to find Ned.” 

“No, you  _ idiot _ , we have to get out of the street.” 

“Listen,” Peter grabbed his elbows. “We’re staying at the hostel down the street, okay? Go there and give that to Ned. And stay inside.” 

“I thought you had to find Ned.” 

“I… Harry.” 

“Peter.” 

“Do you trust me?” 

“I just  _ met _ you.” Harry waved a hand at the water monster behind them. “What are you going to do -  _ fight _ that thing? How? By… by shooting a  _ web _ at it?” 

“I have to try to help at least!” Peter snapped. “People are going to get hurt and -.” He cut himself off abruptly and felt a cold shock run down his spine. “What did you just say?” 

“They’re Oscorp design, yeah? Or at least based off one.” 

“ _ What _ ?” 

“Is now  _ really _ the time?” Harry pushed at his shoulders. “Spider-Man showing up in Italy will only open more questions.” He shoved him again and Peter stumbled against the wet cobblestone. “We go together.” 

“No, no we -.” 

“Peter!” He shoved the bag back at Peter’s chest. “What good is a secret identity if you’re so terrible at keeping it a secret?  _ Move _ !” 

“But these people…” 

“Help them as Peter, then! Cielo! Andiamo!” He pulled at Peter’s wrist until he moved and their feet pounded on the cobblestone. Peter stopped every few seconds to pull someone to their feet, to push them out of the way of falling debris and, rather quickly, stumbled his way back to Ned and Betty. 

“Dude!” Ned caught him in a quick hug. “What is  _ happening _ ?” 

“We have to -!” Betty squealed and Harry yanked Peter back just in time to avoid another crash of water. “Hostel! We have to get back!” 

“Come on, man.” Ned grabbed Peter’s other wrist. “We have to go.” His eyes implored the same message Harry had given him moments before and it was only with a sick sort of feeling that Peter finally gave in. What good was a secret identity if Peter, oddly, disappeared and then showed back up once the monster was… what? Defeated? What good were webs against water, anyway? And it seemed the flying fishbowl man had it under control. 

Mister Harrison seemed barely phased at the inclusion of Harry in their group when they arrived back which seemed entirely fair to Peter. He  _ was _ a teacher and Harry  _ was _ a teenager that needed a safe place to hide as much as the others as the battle was waged outside of their hostel. He did a quick scan of each of them and, aside from a few scratches, they weren’t injured at all. On the television was the scene from outside, the rest of the decathlon team huddled around it with the other patrons of the hostel. MJ spotted them first and gave each of them a shocking, but quick hug. And, normally, Peter would have had the bandwidth to read more into that than was intended, but, currently, the way Harry had been so cavalier about Peter’s alter ego was a more pressing matter. 

He pulled him sharply to the side by the end of his wet shirt until they were far enough away from the others that they would have to be closer to overhear their conversation. Harry barely seemed to notice, his concentration down on his phone with a newly cracked screen. “Damn it,” he swore softly and searched around himself for a towel to dry it off. 

“Why did you say what you did?” Peter hissed between his teeth and tightened his grip on Harry’s shirt. 

He dropped his hand at the unimpressed, and borderline annoyed, look Harry shot him with a flush. “You’ve been wearing…  _ these _ ,” He pushed up Peter’s sleeve to finger the metal web shooters strapped to his wrists. Peter flushed and shoved his sleeve back down with a severe look. “Every time I’ve seen you. And  _ those _ are based off Oscorp design.” 

“How do you know that?” Because they  _ were _ but no one but Peter and Tony Stark had known that. 

Harry looked at him as though insulted. “I made the design.” 

“You…” 

“They’re meant to hold an electric charge. And monitor heart rate of medical patients with severe needs. They can restart the heart if it stops on the wearer. There are some being patented that will inject a medication or epinephrine if the wearer goes into anaphylactic shock.” Peter knew. The intern at Oscorp that had shown the class around during their field trip freshman year, when Peter had gotten bitten by the spider, had been excited to tell them about the design. He had found it absolutely fascinating to see the craftsmanship of the design. “I’m curious, though,” Harry continued. “How did you get the webs  _ in _ and make them able to shoot  _ out _ . I had problems getting it to even hold medication and inject, let alone hold enough chemical solution to keep it reproduced.” 

Peter stared at him, and then stared some more, and realized, perhaps, just how smitten he had grown over three meetings. “I… don’t tell anyone?” 

“Obviously.” Harry rolled his eyes and Peter thought, then, about grabbing him around the cheeks and pulling him into a kiss. 

It seemed fitting. 

“You guys need towels?” MJ said from the staircase above them. They both jumped and she smirked down at them. “Wanna borrow my phone?” She waved it in Harry’s direction and he blinked, and his cheeks reddened for a curious moment before he jogged up the steps to meet her. 

“Grazie.” 

“Prego.”

\--

“He’s nice.” MJ said to him later that afternoon, after Peter had changed into warm, dry clothes and sat on the staircase, tapping his phone against his knee in contemplation of the day. May had been adequately worried when he called and insisted that he call her once every five hours now, but Peter didn’t really mind it. May was never too demanding and she only wanted to know that he was still alive. MJ sat down smoothly on the step above him and looked properly disinterested about the entire conversation. 

“Who?” Peter questioned, even if his eyes were a bit stuck on Harry in a borrowed t-shirt and jeans of Peter’s by the counter, still talking on MJ’s phone to whatever adult was watching over him in a different country. Or perhaps to Norman Osborn. Or maybe someone else entirely, because he was speaking in rapid Italian into the speaker. 

MJ laughed at the question and nudged his shoulder with her leg. “Your boyfriend.” Peter flushed. 

“I don’t… we’re not dating.” 

She frowned and dropped herself onto the stair beside him, glancing between the two of them with a raised eyebrow. “You’re not?” 

“N… no. I… I mean he’s cool and really nice and  _ super _ attractive but I… I like someone else.” Only it seemed like a fall back now that the words had left his lips and MJ seemed entirely unimpressed with the situation. 

“I’m just saying,” MJ leaned back on her elbows. “If I had a  _ girl _ that looked at me the way  _ he _ looks at  _ you _ , I’d be stealing them up before someone else.” 

It clicked, then, what MJ was trying to say without actually saying it. “Oh… you’re…” He felt so stupid then because it was so  _ obvious _ now that he thought about it. MJ  _ had _ only ever talked to him or Ned or even the other girls about, well… girls. And Peter was very obviously  _ not _ one of those. 

She smirked. “No hard feelings?” 

“No,” he found it didn’t even sting. “I got you a present, by the way! Saw it and thought of you.” 

“Oh? I got you a puzzle book.” 

“Super cool!” 

MJ nudged him again and nodded towards Harry, who was running a hand through his drying locks of orange hair. “Seriously, Parker. Don’t pass that up.” 

\--

Harry’s friend, Jonathan, came to pick him up early the next morning with a front seat full of expensive coffee cups for the entire decathlon team and croissants to devour with them. He was tall, blonde and with shining, know-it-all hazel eyes. He caught sight of Peter, muttered something in Italian that Peter didn’t understand that set Harry’s cheeks aflame, and pecked his cheek the moment he introduced himself. “Pierre!” He exclaimed happily. “Sei adorabile! It is  _ lovely _ to meet you!” 

“Jon.” Harry tugged sharply at his friend’s shirt and he stumbled backwards with a loud laugh. “Uscire di qui.” 

“Gli chieda di uscire!” Jon said back loudly and pecked Harry noisily on his cheek before leaving the room in a whirlwind to try and stir something up with the other decathlon members. “Americans! I have brought coffee to soothe your souls!” A few quiet cheers filled up the room and Harry sighed with his forehead dropped into his open hand. 

Peter couldn’t help the smile on his face, even if he was exhausted from the night before. He hadn’t managed to get much sleep, for one Nick Fury showing up in his hostel room was very much  _ not _ the vacation he was hoping for. Neither was the insistence of Shield that Peter help them solve whatever elemental multiverse issue they were having. It gnawed at the part of him that was Spider-Man to not get involved, and the other man - Beck - seemed as though he needed all of the help he could get. “So…” Harry shifted slightly. “I guess you’ll be leaving Venice?” 

“Yeah,” Peter had overheard Mister Harrison trying to book them a bus out of the city and back to the airport earlier that afternoon. “Trip’s been cut short.” 

“That sucks.” Harry hummed and wouldn’t look him in the eye. “I won’t tell anyone. Your secret.” 

“I know.” Peter shrugged. “I’m really terrible at keeping it a secret anyway.” He bit at his lip and sighed into the coffee he wasn’t allowed to have. He put it on the counter instead of drinking it -  _ somehow _ May would know. He had a feeling Ned was her spy on his caffeine intake. “Do you… do you think I could have your number?” 

Harry finally made eye contact through his eyelashes and his smile was small and sweet and perfect. “Yeah?” 

“Yeah. I… I like talking to you.” 

“Yeah, of course. Uhm… I’d text you but… mine’s broken.” 

“Right!” Peter dug his own out of his pocket and unlocked the screen. “So it’s…” 

Harry grabbed the phone from him, typed in the numbers one handed and then handed it back. “Call me?” 

“Everyday.” 

“Every _ day _ ?” 

Peter flushed. “Well, uh… not… not  _ every _ -.” He was cut off by something soft, warm and wet pressing against his own and he realized, after a moment of shock, that it was Harry’s mouth against his own. His heart pounded like a drum in his chest and he kissed back only after a moment’s hesitation. He had only ever kissed Liz before, and Harry’s mouth wasn’t as soft as hers was. His hands moved without conscious thought, one framing Harry’s chin and the other knotted in the bottom of his shirt to hold him in close. He felt the way Harry’s breath pushed itself out of his nose, the way he stumbled and bent back, a little, with the force of Peter’s grip on him before melting -  _ melting _ \- against his chest. He tasted of the coffee he had just drank, and the toothpaste from the hotel, and his eyelashes kissed Peter’s cheeks when he titled his head to keep their noses from jamming together in the middle. 

A pair of hands clapped obnoxiously loud behind them and Peter pulled away only after a moment of hesitation. Harry’s lips were pink and wet and smiling and Peter’s cheeks were red and when he brushed the tip of his tongue over his bottom lip it was to the lingering feeling of Harry’s lips pressed against his own. “He kisses good, no?” Jonathan said with a hand clapped on Peter’s shoulder and wide, wide,  _ wide _ smile on his face. He pointed a finger in Peter’s face accusatory. “You hurt him, New York, and I will  _ find _ you.” 

“Jonathan!” Harry admonished. 

“Harold! I am protecting your honor!” 

“Vattene via!” 

Jonathan laughed and Harry pulled himself out of Peter’s grip gently to cuff him around the back of the head. “Treat him right, New York!” 

“I will  _ kill _ you, Jonathan!”

“Make him an honest man!” 

Peter smiled despite himself. 

He had a feeling it was the start of something wonderful. 

**Author's Note:**

> Quello era il mio posto. - That was my spot. 
> 
> Mi scusi - excuse me
> 
> Sì - yes
> 
> Tu sei un disastro - You're a disaster
> 
> Oh, hai un piano - oh you have a plan
> 
> Ciao - hello
> 
> signore - sir
> 
> Italia - Italy
> 
> Cielo! - Goodness! 
> 
> Andiamo! - Let's go!
> 
> Grazie - thank you
> 
> Prego - You're welcome
> 
> Sei adorabile - you're adorable
> 
> Uscire di qui - get out of here
> 
> Gli chieda di uscire! - Just ask him out!
> 
> Vattene via - Go away


End file.
